bait (me)
by scntlla
Summary: When you're alone with the water and moon hanging high, sometimes that's all you need to unravel completely. (various characters; updated periodically!)
1. edelgard (i)

**Note**: Hey there! Just wanted to say that this is a collection of short chapters (they should all be less than 1000 words...I'm trying to limit how much I ramble, here.) that will include all the playable characters in Three Houses (which I love to death, it's by far my favorite Fire Emblem game). The important thing to note is that most of these will be _pre-timeskip, _and there aren't lots of spoilers. In fact, I try to make things as spoiler free as possible, but there will be some info that is spoiler territory, especially concerning character backstory and what not.

I really did make a fanfiction just so I could have character studies done by the fishing pond. Like, that's all this is. So that being said, please know that I'm only on the Golden Deer route right now. I don't know too much in-depth details about other routes, so hopefully that doesn't show too much with these studies. This is an ongoing series, and I'll update it whenever I feel like it, or whenever I learn more about certain characters and supports that I feel comfy for writing them.

Now, before this gets longer than the actual fic itself, I want to say thank you for reading anything I write, and I appreciate all of you for your support. Enjoy!

* * *

She wasn't hurt by the fact that Byleth chose another house over hers. She wasn't even stung by the fact that Byleth explicitly chose _Claude's _house over hers. Of course, Claude was a capable man, skillful and cunning in ways that no one else could be. Although his tendency to scheme and keep secrets was questionable at best, not to mention that his seemingly laidback nature was off-putting, for someone in a position as powerful as his.

Or maybe he didn't have power at all. Because Edelgard knew what it was like to have power, and she knew how to act _because _of the power that weighed heavily on her shoulders. And, if she was lucky enough to make it past this year, the weight would transfer to her _head, _as the Adrestian Crown would soon sit.

But Edelgard didn't like leaving things to luck—one of the few things she had in common with Claude.

So if that was the case, why was she at the fishing docks, standing alone at the pond with nothing but the moonlight over her?

It was because of that Byleth, damn them. They were stoic and deadpan when they needed to be, but on more than one occasion, they bit back with a sense of sarcasm and humor that was finely layered beneath that unbreakable visage of theirs. Edelgard witnessed this herself the first night she tried to fish.

"You know you don't have to go to such lengths," Byleth said. "Fishing isn't the monastery's main focus."

"I know that," she sternly replied. "I'm aware. As the future leader of the Adrestian Empire, it's imperative that I am more than just capable of leading my nation. I have to be _exceptional._"

"Oh," they said. "And so you're telling me that when it comes to being exceptional..._fishing _is the first thing that comes to mind?"

At the time, Byleth's face was even and set, as it always was. But Edelgard caught a hint of something—a tiny movement in the corners of their lips that was unavoidably, _unmistakably_, a smile.

She didn't like the way that it caused her own chest to ache, like she had been missing something as innocuous and sweet as a smile her whole life. Yet, she wasn't about to be outdone. Although she couldn't best the professor in combat even if she tried (and she _did _try), there were other aspects of life where she could shine just as bright, if not brighter than the cheeky mercenary hire.

"I'll show you," Edelgard affirmed to herself. "Me? Bested by some fish? I think not!" Her fishing line was top-notch, sleek, and silvery as it moved through her fingers. Expertly, she loaded it into her fishing rod, aligned it with the proper loops and fastenings, and made sure that nothing was snagged in the end.

Then she took a deep breath, inhaled the fresh air, and gazed upon the sparkling water.

She cast her line.


	2. lorenz & sylvain

It all started with pride. Lorenz and Sylvain, two nobles of their respective lands, couldn't stand each other philandering all the women in the Monastery. In each of their eyes, the other was inferior to their own charm and natural beauty. While Lorenz was more of a cool and calculative type, Sylvain was laidback and outgoing. It could have been a beautiful friendship, what with two like-minded people having similar interests in battle as well as romance, but instead it was an oddly bitter rivalry, with a competitive nature that increased every time they saw each other.

Tonight, Sylvain tried his best to sweet-talk a haughty beauty from Black Eagles (noble hearts should beat synchronously, should they not?), but his advances weren't received well, or at _all. _Although Lorenz scoffed, made his way over to the same girl, and tried to put the moves on her in _his _own way, he failed in the exact same regard.

"I don't feel too slighted by this in the least," he reassured her. "But tell me. Is there something so devastating about me that you can't bear to spend a night in my company?"

"Other than your ego?" she joked. "Well, I'll admit, you _did _catch my fancy at first. You're not a bad man at all, Lorenz."

He was too happy to hear that. "So what blocks the way of this opportune moment-to-be? Surely you can see that—"

"I just don't know if I can be interested in someone that lacks the ability, of all things, to fish."

So that was how it came to be. Sylvain and Lorenz, two of the most insufferably noble, nobly insufferable, skirt-chasing students in the entire monastery—standing at the _fish docks, _of all places! Of course, it was later in the night, and the two of them were so caught up in the rivalry, they didn't mind the fact that they normally wouldn't take to such _common _hobbies.

But, they'd seen Professor Byleth and the other reputable students here a few times, so it couldn't be that bad, right?

"How many guppies must I fish until I can finally prove myself above your antics?" Lorenz sighed as he slumped over, rod at his side. He grew tired of fishing the same small things over and over again, and sat idly while Sylvain changed out the line, and threw his lure as far as it could go.

Sylvain had the same defeated nature, however, as he sat down grumpily at Lorenz's side. There was a moment of hesitance, though—outside of battle, close proximity to another person implied _familiarity, camaraderie. _ The last thing either of them wanted was for the other students to get the wrong idea about them, but tonight was an exception.

The line bobbed, and Sylvain listlessly wrestled with it, until he reeled up something so sparkly clear, it seemed as if it were made of glass.

Lorenz looked from Sylvain to the fish, to Sylvain, to the fish, and back to Sylvain again. It was the first thing they caught that was worthwhile, and the only fish that might impress a lady (or anyone, really) in comparison to the small pile of herring next to them—that which was looking more and more like scattered petals, rather than the visible fruits of their labor.

The glass fish was a beauty, a prize.

Sylvain smiled as he dangled the catch. "Zero, Lorenz. Zero." And he threw the fish back into the pond.


	3. linhardt

He was tired. And he wasn't tired in the sense that yesterday's training session was tough (thought it was), just as he wasn't tired in the way a person was when they stayed up far past midnight (which he did). This tiredness, this _exhaustion, _was deeply set into him. It wasn't a momentary state of being.

It was _perpetual. _

And so long as Linhardt found himself fatigued, he would always go out of his way to cure the sleepiness where it came. Whether that be dozing off during academic lessons, sleeping in the middle of hallways, or—in today's case—soaking his feet in the monastery's fishing pond, Linhardt would do it all.

Today he did it by sitting at the edge of the water, on top of the marbled stone pathways that lead out to the marketplace further beyond. It was midsummer, late into the Garland Moon and just days away from the sacred Blue Sea Moon. Because of that, the sun was high in the sky, and brightly shining for all the inhabitants at Garreg Mach Monastery to see.

As a result, Lindhardt had trouble sleeping in his own room, due to the summer waves beating down on the buildings, and trapping the heat inside. Even the best dorms lacked proper insulation, so when summer came, it was a bit difficult. Although, according to Petra, Fódlan summers were a lot colder in comparison to Brigid ones.

He shuddered at the thought of it being any warmer than it was. Yet, the heat wasn't entirely unwelcome, because when it was hot, it was easier to succumb to tiredness and _sleep. _And Linhardt was halfway to dreamland, himself, when he laid down, pants rolled up, lower legs soaked in the water, and arms spread out as he enjoyed the lazy summer day in all its glory.

Before his mind could fully drift, however, there was an unmistakable change in the air next to him. He barely heard it as it came, and if it weren't for his in-between asleep and awake states, he wouldn't have noticed it at all.

Although, from the way that the motions were followed by absolute silence afterward, Linhardt immediately had the image of a certain professor in mind.

"Professor Byleth," he murmured. "You sleepy, too?"

"Hmm…" they hummed. "Not really."

"Then why are you here?"

"Just enjoying the water, I suppose."

"Forgive me for saying this, but you don't look like the type of person that would do that."

"Oh? That's odd."

"Why is it odd?"

"Because you also don't look like someone that would enjoy that, either," they pointed out.

"Haha...you got me there," Linhardt conceded. His eyes were still closed against the sun, although he was sure that the professor was completely expressionless, anyway. He wasn't missing anything by not fully acknowledging their appearance. "Did you come to keep me company, maybe? That's even weirder of you."

"You remind me of a cat," they simply said. "The cats do this all the time."

"I'll take that as a compliment. I _love _cats," Linhardt promised. His lips curved up into the slightest smiles. "Although, they make reading a hassle, that's for sure."

"You like to read." Not a question, but a statement.

It was answered by a sleepy statement of his own. "Yes, I do."

"I see. I have some good books of my own that I've found."

"Well, maybe when I'm not so sleepy, I'll ask for your recommendations."

"Very well."

"Cool. So, uh, not to suddenly put a damper on things, but...are you planning on staying here all day?"

"That depends. Are you going to still sleep in the same place where I saw a cat poop earlier?"

Linhardt opened his eyes in a shock. He found himself staring straight up at Byleth, who was leaning over him with a delirious look in their eyes. Their dark blue hair fell into short curtains around them, and their brighter blue eyes stood out, even against the shadows. But through it all, Linhardt couldn't help but stare at Byleth's _mouth, _and ogle at what he saw there.

It was a smile. Not a smirk, not a tiny uplift, not even a _sneer. _It was a brash, pure, unadulterated _smile, _and Linhardt admitted that he once thought it was incapable of the professor to make such an expression. Or, in fact, _any _expression that strayed too far from their usual stony disposition.

Things were different now, though.

He wondered why.

"I thought you said there was cat poop," Linhardt muttered. "Did you just _lie _to me, Professor?"

"And I thought _you _said you were sleepy," Byleth countered. "You look rather awake to me."

"The energy is a momentary state of being. It'll be gone soon." He smiled softly. "I'm always tired, you see."

Byleth almost, almost, _almost _chuckled, but the noise sounded stifled against their lips. They pulled back, and increased the distance between themselves and Linhardt until the sun was back in view, and Linhardt remembered that it was midday, and not the night that Byleth's shadow cast over him.

Then Byleth looked elsewhere, although the smile in their voice never left. "Well," they said. "You should count yourself lucky that I'm _not _always lying."

"Of course, Professor."

_I'd be dead meat, otherwise._


	4. ashe

It was another sleepless night. Ashe had his full share of those like any other student did, although he would be lying if he didn't admit that the Blue Lion house was one traumatizing event too many. There were many occasions where he ran into his other classmates—even the House Leader, Dimitri, could be seen up and awake at odd hours.

Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, Ashe had the whole monastery to himself, because there was hardly anyone outside at this time. There was the occasional knight or merchant that wandered through, and a gang of cats that loved to sit at the top of the stairs, but otherwise, Ashe felt unbothered as he slipped through the shadows, and made his way over to the fishing pond.

Hood up, silver hair obscured, green eyes trained to the darkened sights before him, everything was familiarly laid out. He remembered the days before Lonato, the times he resorted to thievery in order to keep him and his sister alive. The times where he studied the movements of other people, and used narrow alleys and crowded walkways to his advantage. Even now, he figured if he tried hard enough, he could sneak some extra food out of the dining hall, or break into one of the merchant camps near the monastery entrance.

Of course, thinking like that was a bad thing, and he worked hard to change himself in that regard. Lonato saved him, above all things, and the tales of chivalry that guided him helped him to see that the world was more than just the price tags put on merchandise, or the food leftover on plates. There were so many things to discover, and so many people to meet.

Although tonight, Ashe wasn't focused on people. Instead, he was sitting by the waterside, crouched down, arms resting on his knees. He had a gold coin in his hand, and he flipped it over and over again, until the moonlight caught on the rim and sparkled for all the monastery to see.

There was no one around.

He sighed quietly. "They say that if you throw a coin into this pond, Saint Seiros will grant your wish and swallow the gold." His eyes fluttered downcast, and his lips thinned into a straight line. "I wonder if that's the truth."

If it was, he had a long list of things he would wish for. First, he'd wish that Sylvain and Felix didn't fight so often—their conflicts could be heard from the dormitories, and all the way out into town. Then he would wish for a good night's sleep for his dear House Leader, and Dimitri's stalwart friend and ally, Dedue. Then he would wish that Mercedes would stop telling ghost stories to scare him. Him and Caspar and Lysithea weren't so good with scary things, but Miss Martritz had no qualms about spooking them, anyway. Then he would wish that Professor Byleth would cook a meal with him; they made blessed jelly with him once, and it was the sweetest, most perfect jelly he'd eaten in his entire life.

But most importantly, Ashe would wish for safety and success for both him and his sister. He would wish for happiness in the coming days, and hope that the rumors of a Death Knight would stay rumors. With so many wishes, he realized he only had one gold coin to spare.

"Make any of them come true," he whispered to no one in particular. "I'm not picky."

The gold coin sunk into the water as Ashe disappeared into the dark.


	5. marianne

"Dear Goddess," Marianne murmured. "Please watch over us. Please keep everyone safe."

Her prayers were quiet, miniscule, and close to her chest. She barely spoke over a whisper, afraid her prayers would be overhead by others that were not the Goddess. It happened before, and Professor Byleth was especially good at overhearing the students when they didn't want to be heard. Marianne could have withered and died from the intensity of their stare alone, and so she learned to be more reserved when it came to things like praying.

Of course, it didn't help that she often prayed for her own demise, as well. Praying for the Goddess, Sothis, to take her into Heaven, praying for redemption and escape from this accursed life—those things were rituals that Marianne grew accustomed to. She always wished for the end before attending Garreg Mach, she would keep wishing for it as long as she stayed at the monastery.

Even though such drastic thoughts hurt the other classmates a fair bit. Lysithea, Leonie, Claude...they were displeased with her errant behavior more often than not. Of course there was Lorenz, Raphael, Hilda, and Ignatz, who were always so sweetly concerned for her that she wanted to cry out for them to stop. She wasn't deserving of criticism _or _praise: she didn't need anything or anyone. She was a beast, a monster, a _curse _that deserved to die on her own.

As she stared into the sparkling surface of the pond water, she couldn't help but be persuaded further that death was the solution. Her eyes were so dark, bleak, and tired-looking. Her hair was well kept, but a bit messy since she lacked the energy to properly do things. And she hated her overall appearance, and wished she was less than the thin, shadowy girl she was now. She wished she wasn't there at all, because the monastery was a sacred place, and she was less than a fish egg in comparison to such a great place of worship and beauty.

"Dear Goddess, I ask for your forgiveness for what I'm about to say," she whispered quietly, hands folded inward, head downcast as she closed her eyes against the sparkling water.

"Please take me with you one day."


	6. bernadetta, leonie, & seteth

"Saint Indech and Saint Cichol were friends," Bernadetta explained. "A-At least, that's what I'd like to think."

"I can see it," Leonie assured. "I mean, for example, let's say Bernie is Saint Indech, and Seteth is Saint Cichol. You two seem to get along pretty well."

"Just because we bear the crests of Indech and Cichol, respectively, does not necessarily mean that we are in their likeness." Seteth sighed as he placed his chin in one hand, and used the other to keep a casual yet firm hold on the fishing rod. "For example, I'd suppose that two Saints would have better luck at fishing tonight than I would."

"Maybe it's time to change out the bait?" Leonie suggested as she sat down next to Seteth. The dock's wooden slats stressed underneath her weight. "I have some herring bait that one of the merchants gave to me for free. You can try it out, if you want."

"F-For free?" Bernadetta hesitated, before she took up residence on the other side of Leonie, barely able to sit down without being uncomfortable. "How'd you manage _that?" _

"Long story short, that merchant owed me since I took care of their excess products the other day." She seemed proud of herself, and even pulled out a small vial of unknown liquid from her pocket, shaking the contents slowly and surely. "Mostly oils for soap and that kind of thing."

"How resourceful of you," Seteth said. "If you're willing to part with such expensive bait, I'd be happy to compensate for you." He started fumbling with the herring, attaching the bait to the hook and letting it sink in, drift towards the bottom of the fishing pond below them.

"No need for that. This can be a gift between friends." Leonie smiled widely, and leaned back, eyes trained towards the stars. "Right?"

"Friends…" Bernadetta murmured, and stared into the water endlessly, as if its dark depths would tell her anything she didn't already know. "I-I guess the three of us really _are _friends...huh?"

"I'd say so! I mean, if you two are like Indech and Cichol, I guess I'd be left out since I don't have a Crest, but—"

"Your strength and skill with weaponry and horses reminds me of Macuil," Seteth points out. "In one rendition of our story books, Macuil even joins Indech and Cichol, and the three of them seek shelter during a storm that ravages all of Fodlan."

"That sounds nice, actually. Although, if the stories are as based off of imagination like you say, maybe you guys should make a story where they go fishing, instead."

As if on cue, Seteth's line started tugging, and the three of them were surprised as the wire stretched and wriggled. He chuckled heartily at the new development, and stood up to his feet as he tried to reel in the fish. Bernadetta backed up instinctively, afraid of the splashing water and the monstrous fish that could come out of the other end. All the while Leonie was in between the two of them, cheering on Seteth and calming down Bernadetta in the same fell swoop.

At the end of it all, the crystal clear surface of the pond rippled and broke, as a large and shiny fish leaped from its depths, hooked to the end of Seteth's silvery line. The three of them gaped at the sight, and it was as if everything slowed down infinitely, so as to let them enjoy the moment. A moment worthy of remembering, a moment that someone like Ignatz should see so he could paint the sight later on. A moment that connected the three of them, with their scattered allegiances and house alignments—Black Eagles, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros—together.

The fish landed on the dock and thrashed. Strangely enough, it ended up with Bernadetta being the one to pick it up with her bare hands, and put it into the bucket that Leonie and Seteth procured for them at the start of this fishing escapade. By the time she realized what she had done, her hands were covered in water and fish slick, eyes wide as her body seemed to move without realizing.

The three of them were silent for some time. Then, like some spell had cast over them, they broke out into raucous laughter.

"You know, if I make a more lighthearted story about Indech and Cichol, this scene could be a very good inspiration for—"

"Please," Bernie whined, "don't."

"I say that, but you're the one that ends up illustrating them, so it's all in your hands."

"On the bright side," Leonie said, "at least you have firsthand experience with this one!"

"Great," she muttered. "Just great."

Yet she didn't hate the idea, despite her complaints. Later that week, when Seteth and Bernadetta worked on their latest issue, she had no trouble depicting the sparkling blue waters, or the fish that dazzled like a jewel in the moonlight.

Or better yet, the looks of surprise and happiness that stretched across Indech, Cichol, and Macuil's faces.

On _their _faces.


	7. ingrid

Ingrid always had an appetite. She loved food, almost voraciously, and it was the singular aspect about her which could destroy her nearly perfect image. As a member of House Galatea (and as a noble in Fodlan in general), image was greatly important to her, and it wasn't often being sacrificed for the sake of other things. Rather, other things were sacrificed so that the people—commoners and nobility alike—could continue seeing her as she was.

A _prize. _A woman to be wed to another prosperous family, a daughter that could be used as a pawn for whatever her father may wish. She could close her eyes, and her mind would bring her back to the good old days, where she, Dimitri, Felix, and Sylvain ran wild across Faerghus fields, hiding in the banisters of grand staircases, making their servants red in the face as they tried to herd the noble children in vain pursuit.

She never forgot the sight of Glenn, either, who was too old and too cool for their childish games, but he still lingered around them as if he were a guard, and not the then-current heir to House Fraldarius. She never forgot the sight of him, ever.

Those days were far and long gone, or so it seemed. They would never come back, no matter how much any of them wished for it. And besides, Ingrid knew better than to hold old promises to them, to the boys who were slowly becoming _men—_learning what it means to live and let live in this world. She knew better than to expect things from the unexpected, which was why she clung carefully (yet hesitantly) to her father's demands, and why she shunned away anything that couldn't fit into her perfect little world.

At least when she stuffed her face full of food, she'd be able to forget everything, if only for a moment. So Ingrid cast the doubts she had aside, and focused on the fishing rod in front of her. The line sunk down into the bottom, and she already felt the force of something at the other end—something that was hooked, and desperately tried to change its fate.

Ingrid felt bad for the fish, with fleeting thoughts of what it would be like had their roles been reversed. Although she was sure that, given the chance, the fish wouldn't think twice about her. A predator and prey, a victim and assailant, a _victor _and _loser _never thought much about one another once the chase was over. Even if the rest of the world carried on with their scars and burdens, the passion of the experience was felt and lost in the same fell swoop.

Ingrid's eyes widened at the sight of her catch—a large bullhead, shiny and slimy, gaping for water and breath—as she held it triumphantly in one hand, and used the other hand to wipe the gleaming sweat off her brow.

The moment was over, and the passion was gone.

At least her stomach was full.


	8. flayn & ignatz

"Do you think Saint Cethleann likes fish?" Ignatz asked. He was standing on one side of the fishing pond, right next to Flayn, for whom the fishing contest was being held for. He kept both hands tightly wrapped around the rod, but his eyes fluttered back to the girl's colorful image as often as possible. "I mean, that's why there's the Goddess Messenger, right?"

"I think she does," Flayn answered confidently. Ever since she took an interest in Ignatz's artistic renditions of what Saint Cethleann looks like, the two of them had been in each other's company much more often. "Legend has it that the Goddess Messengers were followers of Saint Cethleann, as well as the other saints. And the Goddess herself, of course."

"Of course."

"Anyway, I wanted to express my thanks to you for participating in the fishing contest. I know it's an odd time to be having it, but I can think of nothing better to lighten the mood."

"No, I completely understand what you mean!" Ignatz scrambled to say. "Besides, to be honest, things have been kind of grim lately…"

"I can hardly blame you for feeling that way," Flayn muttered. She stared at the ground with a sigh, her long curls of emerald green hair drooping with her. "I'm sure it doesn't help that I caused such a panic last month...and to think I was useless in the entire fiasco with the death knight…"

"You weren't useless!" Ignatz insisted. In truth, his arms ached from holding the rod for as long as he did, but he had no desire to let go of it now, more than ever. "It wasn't your fault that you were kidnapped. You and Monica and Professor Manuela...even more victims that we might not have heard of, you're all victims of the same cause: The Death Knight. Besides, trust me when I say that no one blames you for what happened. I'm sure with time, all will be forgiven."

Her eyes sparkled with a renewed hope. "You think so?"

"I know so." He held the rod with one hand, and used the other to brush over Flayn's with utmost kindness. His fingers were calloused—no doubt a result from the constant archery—but somehow reassuringly soft as he brushed them over the whites of her knuckles. "It's alright. I'm here for you, if nothing else."

Flayn, for the first time since the incident, laughed brightly at his gesture. "You're so sweet, Ignatz. What can I ever do to repay you?"

Even if he wanted to answer, he didn't have the chance to, as the end of the line began to bob violently. They were now both focused on whatever monstrosity was hidden beneath the waters. Ignatz's lithe body bent, shook, and wiggled as he attempted to rein in the fish, and Flayn cheered him on all the while, their struggle earning the attention of onlookers as they shouted and floundered over themselves as if they were ten people, instead of two.

With a final "Yah!" and a dramatic backwards-arch, Ignatz finally dredged out the fish, and the two of them gasped as its giant body flew over them like a shadowy bird, only to sparkle radiantly in the sun all the while.

It was the Goddess Messenger.

The glory was short lived as it hit the ground behind them with a loud _thud, _and a group of monastery cats—one of which Ignatz recognized as the "representative" of House Gloucester—set upon it like thieves.

"Oh, darn. Well, there's always a next time," Ignatz reassured her, in a voice that wasn't as convincing as it should have been.

Despite the wasted effort, Flayn giggled happily, and beamed up at him with a brilliance befitting Saint Cethleann herself.

"Don't worry, Ignatz," she said to him. "You get first place for style!"


	9. dorothea & manuela

The two of them weren't the fishing types. Even when the other students and staff participated in the fishing tournament held by Seteth all those days ago, they didn't participate. Why should they, when they had better things to do than sit down and wait for something to bite?

Yet the two of them were by the pond, anyway, sitting by the pier with their feet dangling off the edge. Shoes and socks removed, clothes adjusted to remain dry, they soaked their legs, enjoying the quiet evening that settled over the monastery.

Dorothea spoke first. "This reminds me of the time where the company went on a group vacation together. Remember, to the coast?"

"I remember," Manuela said. "Some of those girls hadn't ever left Enbarr and were excited to see the ocean. All those handsome men, sunbathing and swimming with their shirts off...what a time."

Dorothea laughed. She flipped her hair behind her shoulders, and felt the weight of it as she leaned back on her hands, head tilted skyward. "I pushed Cecily and Alice into the water, too. The way they screamed was priceless! Until they pulled me in, that is."

"And you girls pulled _me _in at the end of it," Manuela reminded her, less angry and more reminiscent. "I had just gotten my hair fixed! It was going all frizzy from the wind, the humidity. And some handsome soldier had just gotten interested in me, but left as soon as I was dunked. That could have been my future husband."

"Could have been," Dorothea agreed. She removed her cap and held it in her lap, looking towards Manuela with awe. "It was those kinds of days that I missed the most, you know."

"Really?"

"When I decided to come to the Academy, I was sure I'd never see you or the others again."

"Well, we all pretty much thought the same. Here you were, chasing your dreams of something more, inspiring the rest of the girls, all the while. Honestly, I was jealous."

"You? Jealous of me?"

"Dorothea, you were practically the _star _of the company, you know. Budding and rising, only outdone by yours truly," Manuela mused, placing a hand on her chest. "But I was more jealous about the fact that you were so willing to throw everything away to do what you want with your life. I'm not that much older than you, but I felt as if I had somehow become your junior at that time. Like, If Dorothea can chase her dreams, so can I!"

"Manuela…you know, I've said this before, but I really looked up to you back then."

"I know, I know. And this is a lot of talking over something that wasn't such a big deal in the first place." She ran her fingers through her hair before adding, "In the end, we both arrived at the same place, didn't we?"

"We did. And you even ended up being one of our professors. It's almost like nothing changed!"

"I'm teaching things like history, combat arts, and science instead of singing, but I suppose you're right."

"Look at us, talking like we're old and retired already!" Dorothea laughed as she shoved Manuela playfully, hands slack against her shawl. "We're far from it."

"Yes, but the truth is that time is running out, and for commoners like us, we really need to get a move on with potential suitors."

"I know," Dorothea muttered. "I know. These nobles have it easy, don't they?"

"In some ways. In others, it reminds me that maybe I'm just a little better off than them. Imagine being like Hanneman and obsessing over Crests? I'd rather throw up and eat it!"

"Ew!" Dorothea shuddered at the thought. "Don't say things like that! I just had dinner, you know."

"Haha, it's true, though."

"Just because it's true doesn't mean you should say it," Dorothea insisted.

"I guess you're right."

Others would look down on Dorothea for speaking to Professor Manuela so casually, but could she help it? They knew each other for such a long time now—long before they were professor and student—that formalities were beneath them.

Dorothea was sure of this as she placed her hand over Manuela's, and squeezed tightly.

It was just as warm as it used to be.


	10. dimitri (i)

One of Dimitri's most faithful servants, Gustave, used to talk about fishing in the past. Dimitri himself never forgot the lessons he received on holding a rod, casting the line, and waiting for the other end to bite. And some part of him thought that once he graduated from the Officers Academy, he'd rise to the status of King, fishing on those rare days he had off.

Instead, he was a student in the Academy, not yet graduated and far from kingship. Still, the rod was in his hands, and he tried his hardest not to break it as he did most things.

Yet one errant thought—a horrific remembrance of the Tragedy of Duscur, and all the blood that came with it—was enough to upset his balance, and he couldn't stop the wood from splintering. The rod was halved like a twig in his hands, and he sighed before bending down to pick up the broken pieces.

Dimitri quickly disposed of the rod. He returned to the fishing pond with a scowl on his face, wondering if it was just one of many other things he'd never participate in. Sewing, painting, cooking, sculpting, and now fishing—were his hands only good for violence, and nothing else?

"That was pretty severe."

He turned around to face none other than Professor Byleth, themselves. "Ah, Professor. I suppose you saw my attempts just then?"

"I did."

"Unfortunately, I struggle with controlling my own strength. In battle, it's not ever a problem, but for domestic things like this, I—"

"You can still fish," Byleth insisted, with a twinge of sympathy in their usually stoic expression. "You don't need a rod."

"Um, I'm afraid using a cage to catch fish isn't any better. I break those just as easily."

"Why not use your hands?"

Dimitri stared down at his hands, which were covered in metal gauntlets—yet another measure taken to prevent him from accidentally hurting someone. He tightened them into fists, metal _clunking _alongside his movements, and looked to the professor with a grave expression. "Do you truly think that will work?"

"I don't see why not. Someone as strong and mindful as you should be able to snag one, no problem."

"I'd look rather silly doing that, wouldn't you say?"

"In that case, I will join you." Byleth insisted, sitting down at the edge of the pier at once. "We will fish with our hands together."

"You can't be serious!"

"I am."

Dimitri conceded, absolutely floored at the idea of him and the monastery's most esteemed professor, fishing with their bare hands as if they were out in the wild. Even though it was a slow afternoon, and most students were out on the town or in their dorms, Dimitri was still embarrassed at the idea of Eagles, Lions, and Deer alike—all of them coming out and witnessing the head Lion and the monastery's Demon acting in such a manner.

The earnestness of the professor's actions was too genuine to go unnoticed, however. He would be remiss to deny them now, especially when they went out of their way to make him feel better about something he didn't really need to feel bad about in the first place.

Sitting cross-legged at the pier, Dimitri watched Byleth before doing anything. He took note of the way they sat on their knees, bent over the water with utmost balance and concentration. The pond's surface was calm, and the water was clear enough for the outlines of fish to be seen. Dimitri watched several shapes swim by the professor's outstretched hand, unbothered and ignored in their presence. Several times, Dimitri assumed a certain fish would be chosen to be grabbed bare-handedly, but each time the professor proved him wrong by remaining motionless.

Then, Dimitri caught sight of a large fish, swimming ambly towards their direction. The professor glanced at it twice before sucking in a breath, and swiping his hands into the water.

They came back up with a bullhead in hand. It flailed for water but remained locked in Byleth's grip. Dimitri quickly procured a bucket, and listened to the righteous _thunk _noise that resounded as the fish hit the bottom of the container. "That was incredible!"

"It was nothing. Look around us, Dimitri: hardly a laugh or a stare in sight."

He didn't need to look to know that other students were too preoccupied with their own problems to notice His Highness and the Ashen Demon, standing side-by-side and handling fish with nothing but their own fingers. The childish worry of being seen was soon disregarded, and Dimitri felt silly for being so self-conscious in the first place.

Inspired and reassured, Dimitri tried to replicate the process, but found that he would miss the fish's body entirely, or have the fish slip out of his grip right at the last second. He was on his sixth attempt when Byleth mentioned a helpful tip.

"Because of the way light tricks the eyes, when you see a shape in the water, aim lower than the actual shape itself. That way you account for the light as it acts on the water's surface."

Dimitri vaguely recalled a similar tactic mentioned in their combat study books, specifically the volume dedicated to environmental factors and external issues when fighting. He nodded and focused hard on the next catch. Then, when a large shape loomed near the dock, he inhaled deeply, and reached through the water's surface to grab at it.

He raised his hands out from the water, spraying droplets and scales around him. The beautiful, opalescent sheen of the _platinum _fish was a sight to behold, and he could hardly believe his eyes as the thing struggled in his grasp.

Byleth moved the bucket towards him, and Dimitri dropped the platinum fish into it without a second thought. "I did it," he said. "Oh, by the Goddess, I've done it!"

"You have," Byleth reassures him. "It is as I said."

"You're right. Thank you, Professor. While silly at first, this skill is sure to prove useful in the future." Dimitri fished a few more times using the bare-hands method, collecting several more fish as a result. He wiped at the sweat on his brow. "And the best part is that the fish can't break while in my hands. Er, well, I suppose it _could _if I tried it hard enough, but by then it'll have already served its purpose."

Byleth nodded in agreement, eyes trained to the setting sun. Dimitri stared after it, too, watching as the blues and whites of the sky bled orange and pink, instead. As the last of the daylight went away, Dimitri remained rooted to the spot, hands wringing each other over and over again.

Perhaps his hands were good for more than just fighting, after all.


	11. constance & ferdinand

"Did you imagine that things would end up like this?" Ferdinand's voice pierced the cool air, yet Constance knew that no one else but her was privy to his hushed words. "You and I at the academy, finally reuniting after all these years?"

"Not once in my life," Constance admitted, barely above a whisper herself. Yet as she stood at the pier, staring into the depths of the fishing pond before her, she couldn't help but remember her passing fantasies from before. A time where she was young, naive, and _safe, _where all she wanted was to rise in nobility, and become someone who could outwit the young Aegir heir at his own witty games. When they were kids, they even entertained the idea of attending the Officers Academy together, Constance with her magic, and Ferdinand with his weapons. It was a perfect match.

Perhaps the perfection was what led to disaster, in the first place. Remembering disaster, in all its sunny glory, had Constance grateful for the fact that it was past evening, and there would be no light to force her true self back into its shell.

She already revealed her dour side to Ferdinand once. She hadn't planned on revealing it again.

"Truly?" Ferdinand stood at her side. He was obviously taller than her, but she was willowy enough to appear tall for a girl her age. She straightened up at his admission, and grew soft at his disappointed tones. "You know, I always wondered about you. No one would ever speak of House Nuvelle, though, and at some point, I was told to give up my inquiries."

"I know," she muttered. "I am sure it must have pained you in a separate, but nearly equal, way that it has pained me. One of the greatest regrets of my life is that I was never able to stay by those I cared about. You, Mercedes, Emile…"

Ferdinand's gaze was caught on a single ripple in the pond, catching all the moonlight and shimmering as it moved. "Now that we are together, for at least this short moment in time, I don't suppose you'd like to…"

"...Catch up where we had last left off?" Her lips curled into the barest smiles, but it was the brightest expression she wore all evening. Something about the water and the wispy winds blowing by made her nostalgic, almost a match for her daytime persona. "I suppose I haven't been very amiable towards you, for as long as we have both been here at the monastery. And it would certainly behoove the both of us to resume relations as they once were."

"I agree with you!" Ferdinand grinned, and Constance saw the boy she had known so many years ago, her knight in shining armor. "It would be best to start over. As the night is young, and the day is yet to come, I would like nothing more than to relish these moments with you, Constance."

"As would I, Ferdinand," she said, reaching out to brush her fingers against his. "As would I."

And later that night, when the brushing contact amplified into a full-on embrace—a hug between their fingers, aching and lonely—Constance would say nothing of it, as the motion was as comforting and familiar as it always had been.

Ferdinand alone could keep Constance warm, and for someone so spurned by the sun, that was more than enough.


End file.
